


Come And Go With Me

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Pining, Scent Marking, True Alpha Scott McCall, Werewolf Conferences & Conventions, Werewolf Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15862770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Stiles raises his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m not going to make trouble. I’m just going to be your boring human boyfriend!”Scott laughs, and slings an arm over Stiles’ shoulder. “I don’t think you could ever be boring,” he says, then glances Derek’s way. “Are we going to need to hold hands the whole time? Share clothes?”“Flutter our eyelashes at each other?” Stiles adds, smirking.





	Come And Go With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liliaeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliaeth/gifts).



> Written for liliaeth’s prompt: “Stiles (and possibly Derek and/or Peter) accompanies Scott to a convention for North American alphas. While there Scott has to scent mark Stiles to make it clear that Stiles is his. This inevitably leads to more.” I’m not sure I followed your prompt exactly, but I love convention fics, so I just had to write it!

 

 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“I’m _perfect_ for this role, Derek,” Stiles says, glaring. “I’ve been Scott’s best friend forever, and I’m a great actor. No one will have any doubts about us.”

“Great _acting_ , sure,” Derek says pointedly, while Scott looks between them with a confused expression. “But are you really going to be able to handle that level of contact? He’ll have to scent mark you pretty often, among other things, and—”

“Are you volunteering?” Stiles asks challengingly. “Do _you_ want to play the role of Scott’s mate?”

“No, I just want to be sure—” Derek tries, but Stiles doesn’t let him finish before jumping in again.

“It’ll be fine,” he insists. “Scott, what do you think?”

“I’m not sure you guys are having the same conversation,” Scott says tentatively. “But I do know Stiles best, and I’d be most comfortable doing all the PDA with him,” he says to Derek. “I think it’d probably be the most believable.”

“Besides, no one else in the pack besides us is single. I really am the best option,” Stiles adds. “Though I still think it’s weird that Scott can’t go to this convention without a date.”

“It would be very unusual for an established alpha werewolf to be single,” Derek says. “It’s based on the old traditional idea that an unmated alpha effects pack stability in a negative way. It’s not true, but it persists anyway.”

“And I’m not going to make waves at my very first convention,” Scott says, glancing Stiles’ way.

Stiles raises his hands defensively. “Hey, I’m not going to make trouble. I’m just going to be your boring human boyfriend!”

Scott laughs, and slings an arm over Stiles’ shoulder. “I don’t think you could ever be boring,” he says, then glances Derek’s way. “Are we going to need to hold hands the whole time? Share clothes?”

“Flutter our eyelashes at each other?” Stiles adds, smirking.

Derek just gives a long-suffering sigh.

 

*

 

“Dude, what the hell?” Stiles hisses as soon as Derek’s inside the door. He leans out into the street, making sure no other werewolves are in sight, before turning back to glare at Derek. “What were you doing earlier? Were you just going to tell him how I feel—”

“You’ve been in love with him since before he turned,” Derek says sharply. “So I don’t think you’re the right person to go.”

“That should make me the best person to go! I’ll pass all the werewolf lie-detection tests because I’m _actually_ in love with him,” Stiles snaps. “My actions will be more convincing if none of them are fake.”

“I’m just concerned,” Derek says, shoulders sagging. “Have you considered how difficult this is going to be for you?”

“I’ve lived a large part of my life in love with him,” Stiles says, aiming for casual but likely failing. “This won’t be any different than the usual.”

Derek raises his eyebrow. “Except that you’ll be sleeping in the same bed. And spending a lot of time close together, snuggling, holding hands, kissing—”

“I get it,” Stiles says before Derek can elaborate further. “But that might be all I get before he finds someone else amazing to date, so.”

“And what happens if he finds out? What if you two have a falling out at the convention?” Derek says, sounding tired. “What if he was only okay with it when it was fake? You have a week before you have to leave for the convention. Think it over, make your plans, and most of all _be sure_ this is what you want.”

“And what happens if I decide not to go? I won’t let Scott go alone,” Stiles gets out, feeling like he’s trembling all over at just the _idea_ of Scott rejecting him. He really can’t bear to think about it, no matter what Derek wants.

“Then I’d go with him,” Derek says. “I don’t love him the way you do, but I do love him.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, running a shaky hand over his face. “Thanks Derek.”

 

*

 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Scott asks, glancing away from the road for a moment.

It’s a nearly eight-hour drive to the convention, and Scott is taking the first shift behind the wheel. Stiles has supposedly been taking pictures of the vibrant wildflowers along the road, but has actually been sneaking just as many pictures of Scott, looking relaxed and content behind the wheel. He’d never admit it, but he’s definitely planning to print some of them and hang them in his dorm.

“Totally,” Stiles says, then watches Scott for a moment, wondering how much he’s going to push. “I’m just a little worried the other alphas will look down on you for having a human mate.”

“Derek said it’s not actually that uncommon,” Scott says, shrugging. “So it’ll be fine. I think Derek’s just happy I’m not dating Allison anymore.”

“Yeah, bringing a former hunter to a werewolf convention seems like a bad idea,” Stiles says, laughing a little. “You sure you’re okay with this whole charade? I know you hate lying to people.”

“It’s not a lie. I really do care about you, and I want you by my side,” Scott says with complete seriousness, and Stiles feels his traitorous heart flutter.

Scott glances over again, then takes a hand off the wheel and rests it on the center console, palm up.

“Wanting to get a little practice in?” Stiles jokes.

“Something like that,” Scott says easily. “You need to smell at least a little like me.”

“Dude, I’m wearing _your jacket_ ,” Stiles huffs. Still, he traces his fingers along the curve of Scott’s thumb and the flat of his palm before resting his hand in Scott’s.

“And you look great in it,” Scott says, smiling sunnily, and lightly squeezes Stiles’ hand.

 

*

 

Stiles whistles when they pull into the convention center parking lot. “Seems like werewolves tend to have money, huh? I bet this place has, like, a _spa_ or something.”

“Well, we are using part of our summer break, we might as well enjoy it,” Scott says, shrugging. “I bet our room will be really nice, too.”

“Yeah, I’m super glad we’re not doing this during the semester. Can’t image my Biology professor would accept _I had werewolf stuff to do_ as an excuse to miss class,” Stiles says, grabbing his bags out of the trunk.

“Probably not,” Scott agrees, automatically slinging half of Stiles’ stuff on his back.

Stiles considers it personal growth that he actually _lets_ him do it.

“Hey, are there a lot of others here already?” Stiles asks curiously as they make their way toward the entrance. “Can you tell?”

Scott lifts his chin, seeming to take in their surroundings in seconds. “Not many yet. We’re kind of early.”

That’s proved when they walk in the door and there’s no line to check in. They get their name badges—Scott’s with a little wolf on it, Stiles’ with a moon on his—and room keys before shuffling into the atrium of the convention center.

It’s an airy, open space well-lit with skylights, and Stiles pauses for a moment to take it in. There’s a tall structure in the middle, made of wood and metal and rope, that dominates the space. It has balconies and little ledges sticking off it, along with a staircase running through the center, linking together what appear to be empty rooms. Stiles wonders for a long moment why there’s a weird, half-built house _here_ , when he realizes what it actually is.

It’s a werewolf obstacle course.

A test.

Scott steps closer, leans his shoulder against Stiles’ and says, “Derek mentioned there’d be something like this. Apparently, they have a competition to see who can ring the bell first.”

“Bell?” Stiles says, eyes roving across beams and loops of rope. Scott points, and Stiles finally spots a tiny bell, hanging from a pole at the highest point of the structure. “Oh. Hey, how does Derek know all this stuff? He wasn’t an alpha for very long, and I know he didn’t slip away from Beacon Hills to attend a convention during that time, either.”

“He went with Laura once, about six months after the fire,” Scott says, resting a hand on Stiles’ lower back and guiding him toward the elevators. “Due to those circumstances, it was acceptable for a sibling to accompany her, rather than a mate.”

Stiles rubs a hand across his forehead, lets Scott push the button for their floor. “I didn’t realize. It had to be rough for him, dredging up all those memories. I’m glad he was able to help you, though,” he says, briefly resting against Scott.

“Me too,” Scott says, stepping through the doors and heading down the hallway. “And remembering what you lost isn’t always a bad thing. It reminds you to treat the future with care.”

Then Stiles has work hard to resist kissing Scott, who always tries to stay gentle and kind, even when the rest of the world isn’t.

“Whoa,” he says when Scott pushes open the door. It’s the biggest hotel room he’s ever seen—there’s an entire sitting area, filled with couches and a table and chairs, that takes up most of the space, and offset from that is the bedroom. Inside, there’s a dresser, a wardrobe, and only _one_ king bed, of course.

Stiles knows werewolves are very tactile, so there’s no reason one _wouldn’t_ want to sleep right next to their mate.  

He drops his stuff on an armchair, and immediately flops back on the bed, sprawling out. “This bed is _so soft_ ,” he sighs out happily, letting his eyes slide closed. “Makes all of this totally worth it.”

Scott laughs from somewhere close by, then Stiles feels the bed move as Scott climbs in. But he doesn’t lay down on the other side, he instead settles himself down carefully on top of Stiles, slotting his legs along Stiles’ and tucking his hands under his shoulders. “And you haven’t even been in the hot tub yet,” he says, nuzzling in against Stiles’ neck.

“True,” Stiles says, arms coming up around Scott and holding him close. Scott shifts a little, trying to get comfortable, and Stiles tries not to react. “Hey, let’s make a rule right now: we’re going to have to get close and personal this whole trip, so there will be no judgement for, uh, inappropriate reaction to stimulus. Okay?”

“Deal,” Scott says. “No judgement and no comments on…personal matters.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, sweeping a hand down Scott’s back. “You know, I’m glad that—if I have to spend part of my summer on werewolf business—at least I’m getting to spend it with you. I’ve been regretting us not going to the same college, I was really missing you last semester.”

“Me too,” Scott sighs. “But we’re not that far apart, maybe we can try visiting each other every few weekends.”

“That’d be good,” Stiles says, but he can’t help thinking, _isn’t that something you’d do for someone you’re dating?_ He’s been tempted to tell people at school that Scott is his boyfriend, but he has a deep fear of that somehow getting back to Scott, so he doesn’t do it. He imagines it a lot, though.

Scott tucks his face more firmly against Stiles’ neck, like he’s settling in and planning to stay.

Stiles is completely fine with that.

 

*

 

That evening, the convention is more of a party than Stiles was expecting.

“I think you smell enough like me,” Scott had said when Stiles’ stomach rumbled. “We can head downstairs and have dinner.”

There are long rows of buffet tables set up, full of food that smells _amazing_ , there’s music playing, and some of the werewolves are dancing in an open area of the ballroom instead of waiting in line. In one corner, there’s a pile of cushions and beanbags and pillows—Stiles as a moment of horror, imagining they have to be part of a werewolf orgy—but realizes werewolves also get lethargic after eating, and just want a comfortable place to sprawl out and socialize after a big meal.

Stiles ends up dancing in line while they wait to get food, until Scott pulls him close and holds him there, tight against his side. It’s supposedly to scent-mark him, but Stiles knows the truth. But he also doesn’t want to accidentally hit another alpha in the face and cause an incident, so he wraps his arms around Scott’s waist and tries to keep still.

To Stiles’ surprise, they don’t go back up to the room after they eat, but end up on one of the big cushions, Scott’s head in his lap. He supposes it’s a good time to talk, while everyone’s relaxed, but he mostly lets Scott handle that, sliding his fingers through Scott’s hair and only jumping into the conversation occasionally.

It’s late by the time they head back upstairs to their room, and by then Stiles is too tired to worry about sleeping next to Scott. They’d continued to have sleepovers through high school, but they’d stopped sleeping in the same bed, and Stiles isn’t sure what to expect now.

He brushes his teeth and changes into his pajamas before slipping under the covers, and when Scott joins him a few moments later, he whispers, “Just like when we were kids.”

“Maybe not _just_ like that,” Stiles says sleepily, but thinks _even back then, I was hoping one day you’d marry me_. So not much has changed, after all.

“You’re right,” Scott says, throwing an arm over Stiles and pulling him close. “This is better.”

Stiles falls asleep with a smile on his face.

 

*

 

The next morning features Stiles waking up with an awkward erection, and he quickly sneaks into the bathroom to take care of it. True to his word, Scott doesn't say anything about it, but Stiles does wonder if Scott's in a similar situation. He refuses to let himself look when Scott finally gets out of bed.

After they’ve both showered, there’s breakfast and all the presentations and panels Stiles had expected there to be at the convention. It becomes apparent that, werewolf or not, some people just aren’t good at public speaking. There is a lot of interesting information, though, and Stiles taps a few things into his phone to make sure he doesn’t forget.

Scott ends up asking a couple of questions at one of the panels, and the alpha who answers seems disconcerted by Scott’s sunny smile and gentle demeanor, and Stiles tries not to laugh when he sees several others immediately begin to underestimate him.

That tends to work out in their favor, so Stiles doesn’t say anything about it. He does take Scott’s hand when he comes back, squeezing supportively.

After presentations about types of pack dynamics and best management styles is over, it’s time for lunch, and after that is the apparently mandatory lounging-around time. He’s just considering lying down next to Scott and taking a nap, when he notices a lot of the other werewolves getting up and heading down the hall.

“What’s going on?” he asks when Scott’s suddenly on his feet.

“They’re starting,” Scott answers, which isn’t really an answer at all, and holds out his hand to help Stiles up.

Stiles takes it and then doesn’t let go, twining his fingers with Scott’s and following along. He shouldn’t be surprised when they end up in the atrium, bright sunlight shining down on the compressed obstacle course, but somehow he still is.

There are already two alphas waiting at the base of it, and at an unheard—at least to Stiles—signal, they both leap forward and race to the top, taking different routes to get there. One wins handily, ringing the bell before the other alpha gets close, but no one in the crowd seems particularly impressed.

When they come down, the winner stands to the side, and the loser heads back into the crowd. Then two more alphas step up. This time they both take similar paths, and Stiles can hear their claws scraping against the wood as they try to shoulder each other out of the way. The intensity is much higher this time, with everyone practically holding their breath, and it comes to a head when the alphas land on a balcony at the same time.

There’s a scuffle, with growling and snarling and a painful-looking use of elbows and knees, and then one of the alphas goes flying over the low railing. He catches himself on one of the loops of rope, tries to pull himself back up, but it’s too late. The other alpha rings the bell victoriously.

It goes on like that, pairs of alphas competing to get to the top fastest, and Stiles keeps waiting for Scott to step forward, but he just keeps standing there, still hand-in-hand with Stiles.

Every now and then, when the pool of winners gets too large, the alpha running the event makes a group of four or five of them go at once, with only one victor at the end. The area around the structure has started to clear out, with all the losing alphas standing back toward the walls, and the number of alphas yet to go gradually dwindling.

It’s not until there are only two winning alphas left that Scott _finally_ lets go of Stiles’ hand and steps forward. Stiles doesn’t have werewolf hearing, but he still catches a few mutters about _true alphas_ and _being fair and letting everyone else go first_.

It’s the first time Stiles has really heard any reference to Scott’s status, and it makes him hope Scott doesn’t lose terribly. That’d be really embarrassing.

The three alphas line up, and Stiles finds himself swaying forward in anticipation, his whole body tense as he keeps his eyes trained on Scott.

All three suddenly leap forward, and the two other alphas make a grab for Scott, but he slips through their hands easily. He takes a different route than Stiles has ever seen, leaping into a “window” and then bounding up the staircase in the center before reemerging onto a narrow ledge.

Stiles thinks it’ll all be fine, but then one of the other alphas lands on the same ledge, and Stiles knows that Scott’s not going to shove anybody off, even if they won’t be hurt. Scott and the alpha stare each other down for a moment, then Scott _backflips_ —dammit, Derek—off the ledge and onto a nearby balcony. He times it so that he leaves the ledge just as the other alpha is jumping for it, and his two competitors collide and go careening off the edge.

They both manage to catch themselves and claw their way back up, but it’s too late. Scott’s already leaping toward the bell, and in the absolute silence the chime is clear and distinct.

A cheer goes up as Scott lands almost directly in front of Stiles, and a surge of emotion and the roar of the crowd has Stiles darting forward, arms going around Scott’s shoulders as he kisses him fiercely, putting all his exhilaration and admiration and devotion into it, and Scott—

Scott kisses him back, but Stiles suddenly remembers that he’s probably just doing it for show, because he _has to_ , and he hastily pulls away.

Scott just smiles at him like nothing unusual happened—unlike Stiles, who is probably giving away the charade of their relationship just by the reactions he’s having right now—and he’s suddenly aware of all the other werewolves crowding around, patting Scott on the back and shoulders and anywhere they can reach, talking excitedly and congratulating him.

Stiles takes the distraction as the opportunity it is, and slips carefully through the alphas—who pay him no mind, all their attention focused on Scott—and gets upstairs to the room as quickly as possible. He needs to be alone right now, needs to find a way to spin this, to make this okay.

He doesn’t think Derek’s dire predictions will come true, but he doesn’t want to risk it, either.

He’s pacing across the room, muttering to himself as his thoughts fly in all directions, his anxiety ramping up the more he considers that things might have _already_ gone wrong, that Scott might be freaked out or angry because Stiles kissed—

“Dude, good work. That was an amazing fake kiss,” Scott says, bursting into the room just as Stiles is mid-pace and at the height of his stress about _everything_.

That’s his excuse for the words he blurts out, though he knows it’s at least in part because he’s just tired of pretending, tired of hiding how he feels.

“It wasn’t a _fake kiss_ ,” he snaps, and the look of shock on Scott’s face feels good for about a half-second before the regret comes flooding in.

“I—but that’s not _possible_ ,” Scott says, looking distraught. “You don’t—”

“You think I don’t know whether or not I’m in love with you? Because I’m pretty damn sure that I am, Scott,” Stiles cuts in, because he might as well put it all out there. “And what do you mean, _not possible?_ ”

“Your scent never changed,” Scott says, and his voice his soft, but he’s looking at Stiles with an intensity he’s never experienced before. “All this time, I kept hoping that it would, that it would be different when you were around me. But it never did. You smell just the same as you did when I was first turned, so I—”

Scott sounds disappointed, sad, but Stiles can’t help laughing a little. “Oh, man,” he says, closing the distance between them so he can rest his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “Your baseline was flawed. I was in love with you _before_ you became a werewolf.” He lightly strokes his thumb along Scott’s jaw. “And you’re right, that never changed.”

Scott’s frown suddenly flips, once he processes what Stiles is saying, and he’s suddenly beaming at him, head tipping up in a clear invitation that Stiles is only too happy to take. He kisses Scott again, but it’s better this time, with both of them knowing that it’s _real,_ that they _mean it_.

After a long while of kissing and touching and soft, encouraging sounds, Stiles’ fingers encounter something on Scott’s chest, under his shirt. “What’s this?” he asks, tapping it curiously.

“Oh! That’s what I came up here to tell you,” Scott says, a little sheepishly. He fishes his hand into the collar of his shirt, and pulls out a chain necklace for Stiles to see. There’s a howling wolf dangling from it, with a tiny red gem for the eye. “Since I won the challenge, I’m in charge of it next year. I get to design it however I want.”

“That’s awesome,” Stiles says, brushing his fingers over the little wolf before tucking it back into Scott’s shirt.

“Yeah, I was hoping you’d help me plan something,” Scott says. “And I was hoping you’d be here again, as my mate.”

“Of course,” Stiles says, tipping Scott’s face up so he can press his smile against Scott’s. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

(They spend the rest of the day in their hotel room, but that’s okay. Everyone just thinks Scott is celebrating his victory. Only Stiles knows that Scott is celebrating something else.)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
